


I Learned That From You

by fictive_frolic



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Past Relationships, Regrets, past substance use, reconcilliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28835499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictive_frolic/pseuds/fictive_frolic
Summary: You left Clint once because you couldn't love him to death. But he never forgot about you. And you never stopped loving each other.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

“Barton, C’mon,” Tony said, “Steve’s yelling for wheels up in 30 minutes.”

Clint rolled his eyes and snorted, locking his computer screen quickly, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Who was the babe?” Tony said, arching an eyebrow, “Porn star?”

Clint felt an involuntary surge of anger. He knew that the woman he was cyberstalking wasn’t his… Not in any emotional sense. But. In the drawer in his desk, there were letters. And a few little trinkets. Things that had survived moves and exploding buildings. This he wanted- Things he wished he had the guts to tell you he’d kept. 

“No,” Clint said stiffly. He didn’t want to talk about you. Not with Stark. Not even with Natasha. Though he didn’t doubt Natasha knew. Natasha knew everything, sometimes even before he did. 

“You’re right,” Tony said, “She’s too wholesome looking for that… Christian mingle? Jdate? Plenty of fish? I’m not judging. Really. You should get laid.”

Clint sighed and shoved past him, going to get his gear. He hoped that a shove and a scowl would be enough to deter the other man, but as he followed him, continuing to encourage him to “get out there” and “Get it in” he didn’t think he would be so fortunate.

By the time Clint hurled himself into the seat in the cockpit, he was in a mood. “If he doesn’t shut up I’m gonna crash us,” Clint growled, making Natasha raise an eyebrow. 

“What’s he doing now?” Nat asked, not turning around and starting to flip switches. 

“Riding my ass,” he answered. 

“About?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Clint said, cheeks coloring. 

The truth was. He did want to talk about it. He wanted to tell someone the whole story. He wanted to tell Natasha about how he met you and… how you left. How he found where you were. Why he kept looking over your shoulder. 

But if Natasha noticed, she gave no sign. All she said was “Okay,” and shrug. On some level Clint was grateful. It gave him time to think about how he wanted to handle Stark. To decide if he wanted the truth to come out. At least to start with. 

It didn’t take time for his mind to wander. Back to a time when he was younger. A lot younger. And everything was ruled by emotion. And hormones. And a constant need to make an idiot out of himself trying to impress a pretty girl. Even if that pretty girl was out of his league. He was a hot shot. A strong man, a swordsman, and archer… He was a huge chunk of the show for the circus anymore. He was a draw. He made money. Not that he saw much of it but. Things could be worse. He had a truck now. Sure. It was ancient and needed a lot of work but. He was always pretty handy with a wrench. And it was sort of… relaxing, replacing this or that.

And in the back of his head, he can see how you looked that day, wandering through the camp early that morning. A costume with sparkles and sequins draped over your arm and your hair a mass of wild, thick curls. He noticed the shape of your ass in your cut offs and the curve of your breasts. But mostly, he noticed that you were laughing. Roy. Fucking Roy the animal trainer was making you laugh and Clint really just wanted to punch him in the mouth. 

Still He didn’t have time to dwell. And it didn’t take long for Tony’s voice to snap him back to reality, “Cedar Falls, Iowa huh?” 

“Stark,” Clint said warningly. 

“But Clint,” Tony said pressing a hand to his chest in mock hurt, “I’m just trying to help you find love.”

“Tony,” Nat started-

“FRIDAY?” Tony said, “Set a course for Cedar falls Iowa!”

And Clint felt his stomach drop as the quinjet swooped towards the west. “Tony,” he said, his lips feeling bloodless, “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Reuniting you with you ex wife?” Tony said, “Giving you closure and a new sense of purpose?”

“Tony,” Natasha said, looking from Clint to the dark-haired man, “Don’t.”

Tony looked at Barton for a long moment and nodded, the man looked like he’d seen a ghost. Several ghosts really. With chainsaws. And even Tony couldn’t force him into some little town just to watch the fireworks. 

“FRIDAY!” Tony called, “Never mind. Resume the previous course.”

Clint exhaled slowly as the Quinjet changed course again. How could he talk to any of them about the way that you left. 

The letter in a shaking hand. Left on the counter next to his bottles from the night before. Your hands had been shaking, he knew it. They always shook when you were anxious. Or afraid. He wasn’t sure how to talk about what he did to make you go. 

“How is Y/N?” Nat asked quietly when Tony went away, to leave them to their conspiratorial whispers and shit talking. 

“She adopted a dog,” Clint said softly, smiling a little. You’d always wanted one. But in the trailer courts and apartments where Clint moved you, the pet deposit was always too much. 

He wasn’t surprised that Natasha knew your name. If anything it felt good, being able to tell someone anything about you. 

_______

Later, as photographers snapped photos at a gala, Steve made his way to Clint’s side, smiling. “Ex wife, huh?”

“Don’t want to talk about it,” Clint said tightly. 

“Didn’t even know you were married,” Steve said. There wasn’t judgment in the other man’s tone, surprisingly. Just, concern. 

“I was just a kid,” Clint snorted. “Still in the circus.”

Steve nodded. Again. No judgment. Just a moment of understanding. “Keeping tabs, huh?”

“I ruined her life once,” Clint said with a shrug, still smiling for the cameras. “I’d hate for some megalomaniac to get hold of her and do it again.”

Steve nodded and turned with Clint to walk into the banquet hall, “That’s fair… I told Stark to back off of it. He had some sort of plan involving her and a birthday cake.”

“She did jump out of a cake once but… It was part of the show,” Clint snorted. 

Steve smiled a little but didn’t say anything else. There wasn’t time before the applause would have drowned out his words.


	2. Chapter 2

You sat at the counter and stared out the front window of your shop, debating the merits of closing up early. No one had been in all day, though that was surprising. The spring tourist season hadn’t started yet. There was still too much snow in the mountains for anyone but seriously outdoorsy people and those people didn’t usually come to antique stores in search of curios and depression glass. 

“What do ya say, Rocky?” you hum at the mutt, sunning himself in the window and idly watching to trickle of foot traffic, “Are we gonna head home?”

At the sound of your voice his head turned and he eyed you lazily, yawning. 

“Silly boy,” you sigh, picking up his leather leash, “C’mon. Maybe a treat.”

The word treat was, like always, a magic word. And the elderly beagle hauled himself to his feet with a soft woof and a swish of his tail. When he sits, waiting patiently for you to shove the money in your safe, you keep a running string of commentary up for him. Partly because with the shop being empty you got lonely. And partly because… well. You needed to talk but. Who else were you going to talk to? It’s not like you had a man waiting for you at home. 

“Did I tell you I saw him on the news again?” you ask the dog. 

He doesn’t answer, but he does cock his head listening. 

“Yeah. There was some fancy party or something. He looked good. Tired, though.” You sigh and glance at the dog. His big brown eyes looked, to you, slightly judgmental. “I know but…” you stop. You aren’t sure why you’re explaining yourself to someone that licks his own ass. But. You’ve never met a dog with such judgy eyebrows. “I loved him, ya know? Still love him.”

The soft grumbles from the dog make you chuckle and rub his ears. “Don’t worry, Rock,” you tell him, kissing his head, “You’re the number one man in my life… Besides. He knew me a long time ago. And I’m pretty sure he’s gotta beat women off with a stick.”

The dog huffed at you and you shook your head, “Tinder hook ups don’t count,” you snort. “I could stand on the porch and yell “come get it! And they’d line up. Especially here.”

If dogs could roll their eyes, you were sure Rocky would have and you smiled. “Let’s go, huh?”

And he didn’t need telling twice as you clipped the leash to his collar and tugged you out the door. 

You paused at the door, taking the time to engage the security system and lock it before letting Rocky pull you insistently towards the doggie boutique where they had treats he found especially tasty. “Ready for your paycheck?” you ask him, laughing as his tongue lolls out. 

Six months ago, he’d been in a shelter. Someone had dropped him off to make room for a baby or a puppy or some damn thing and because of his age, no one had wanted to take him home. But. His calm demeanor and the coloring on his eyes that made him look like he had eyebrows had been… just what you didn’t know you needed. And it had only taken a couple weeks for him to get comfortable being a shop dog. And more comfortable still getting gourmet treats and a heated doggie bed. He was old. And spoiled. And you were reasonably certain he might be your favorite person. 

“There’s my favorite customer!” The woman behind the counter said laughing, easing herself off of a stool and going to get Rocky’s favorite biscuit. “Closing up early today?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling two bottles of water from a cold case and your money out of your bag, “No tourists to sell to,” you snort. 

“Isn’t it just the pits?” she sighed, “Honestly I wish they’d hurry up.”

You smile, “No joke, Mari, no joke. Sure. Online business is fine but… god I hate the post office.”

She made a sympatheic noise, “Did you ever figure out how to ship that end table?”

You nod, grinning, “In one piece even.”

Rocky made a soft grumpy sound on the floor and you roll your eyes, taking the treat from the other woman, “Alright, ya old grump,” you tell him, “here’s your paycheck.” You hold it out to him and he takes it from your hand gently before crunching down happily.

“Ah, Happy crunching sounds,” Mari giggled, “And another satisfied customer.” She turns and goes to ring out the order. “Hey!” she said abruptly, “I just remembered. Mom wanted me to ask if you’d take a look at the old wash tub in her shed. See if you could make it into a planter or something.”

“She’s not going to use it in the produce stand any more?” you ask taking your change. 

“It’s too heave to lift,” Mari said shaking her head, “She almost threw her back out last year trying to get it set up.”

You make a soft sound of understanding and nod, “I’ll take a look at it… I may be able to some up with a good planter. Put some nice perennials in there. Make it less fuss.”

“Perfect! I’ll have her give you a call.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it,” you tell her with a wave as Rocky, now done with everyone now that he’d had a treat, started towards the door. Making you laugh, “See you tomorrow!”  
_________

At home, you sit in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea. You aren’t entirely sure why but, the kitchen has always been your favorite room in this house. Maybe, it was because you’d spent time crafting it in to your dream kitchen. One that felt like it came from a fairytale while still having modern comforts. 

And against your better judgment you pull out your laptop. 

You’d wondered what would become of Clint. Worried for him. Cried over him. Even though you’d been the one to leave. You had grieved. The fairytale that could have been. The boy you’d loved. And now? He was a hero now… And. You’d be lying if you said that that didn’t hurt. That you weren’t reason enough to change. 

But. As your scrolled through pictures and articles, you couldn’t help but be proud. He wasn’t the boy you knew anymore. But. He was a man with a purpose. And you hoped he was happy.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint looked at the eye searing decorations that covered the drug store and sighed. He was inundated with pink, purple, and red. And that only meant one thing. Valentine’s day was coming. 

In another time, he’d have woken up to heart-shaped waffles with meticulously syrup filled dimples. And he’d have opened his lunch box to find heart-shaped sandwiches and a handful of chocolates. And even if he protested and fussed about hating it, in a way, he’d looked forward to it. 

It had made you happy. It was a reason to go out of your way to make a fuss. It wasn’t an obligation to you, it was a joy. 

He wandered the aisles looking for beer and stopped suddenly in front of a display. Teddy bears, tacky teddy bears with big sad eyes that looked like they’d seen some shit and soft faux fur. The girl he’d known would have loved one. Thought they were so ugly they were cute and given it a name like Bert. That thought made him smile a little. He’d brought you a lot of stuffed animals in apology. In a bid to keep things going just a little longer. To keep this newest night out from being the one that made you leave. 

Clint sighed and added one to the cart. Maybe Natasha would like one. At the very least it would probably make her laugh. And that would make him happy. Clint nodded to himself. That was worth it.  
_________

By the time Clint made it back to his room with the case of beer he had left for and the teddy bear he hadn’t wanted, the rest of the tower was down in the commons. It was movie night. Someone’s idea about team bonding. Not a horrible idea, sure. But still a level of hell for Clint. If everyone would just watch the movie, it would be fine. But. No one ever did. There was all this side chatter and loud laughter. 

Too much for him to sort through and try to understand. So. Clint detoured to Natasha’s room and tucked the teddy bear into the door handle before heading to his own room. He’d just have his own movie night. A couple beers and his Animal House DVD. Or something. 

Of course, Clint Already knew he wasn’t really going to watch the movie. He was going to be being a creepy lurker. Looking up things about you… Not. Not invasive things. He just wanted to know that you were safe. And happy. 

He wanted you to have all the happiness that he hadn’t given you. All the things he promised you and didn’t deliver. You’d earned it. More than earned it. And he wasn’t even sure why he was so obsessed with you right now. He’d done his little bi-weekly check-in. A cursory glance to make sure your social media accounts stayed active. And that everything was going okay. But. He just… couldn’t look away. The pictures you posted, the ones of you and your dog, made him feel… something. A warmth he’d not felt since, well. Since before you’d left. When you’d told him that you’d always love him but you had to go. 

Clint looked at the laptop on his desk and sighed. “I really shouldn’t. I should leave her alone.”

But. Like a Siren was calling him, Clint felt himself drawn slowly forward. And, like he had so many times before, he searched. For you. To make sure, he told himself, that no one was going to use your past with him as a way to hurt you, or himself. 

But this time, there was something… new. A dating website profile. It was on a mostly free website, sure. And your profile was pretty basic. There were some photos. Cute photos. Pictures of you hiking. Pictures of you, glasses sliding down your nose as you work on some piece of furniture. Pictures with your dog. 

Basic info he already knew. But… you were looking for dating. Friends. Something long term. And Clint swallowed hard. He wanted… Well. He wanted to reach out but. He knew that if he did, at best you’d ignore him. 

And Clint took a deep breath. There was only one way to really know you were happy, right? He had to talk to you. Really talk to you. 

And before he had a chance to talk himself out of it, he clicked the sign-up button. 

________

“I dunno, Rocky,” you sigh. “I don’t think any of these guys are going to be a good fit.”

The dog didn’t bother to even lift his head from his pillow and you smile a little, shaking your head before you look back at your monitor. “Ooo,” you hum, “New message. Let’s see if this one is a hard dick or a flaccid dick.”

But it wasn’t. For once, someone had actually bothered to write a message. And this one… paired with the piercing blue eyes and the strong jaw in the profile picture. Well, you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t at the very least, perk up a little. 

“Hey,” it read, “I’m not sure why they sent you my way… I’m all the way in New York. But, you’re really beautiful. What are you painting?”

The first message you’d gotten that didn’t start with ASL? Or “You’d look good carrying my baby” Maybe there were a few decent men online after all and they hadn’t all been replaced with porn bots.  
__________

Clint chewed on his lip. It wasn’t, he knew, too late to stop all of this. Delete this account and pretend that he hadn’t done this. 

But. 

When his computer chimed, notifying him that he had a message, he took a deep breath. “I’ll get out before I get too deep,” he promised himself. “I just want to know.”

And, when he opened your reply, his heart was pounding. His heart was pounding, his hands were shaking, and all he could do was smile.

“Idaho here,” you’d started, “So I’m not sure either… But. I think I was painting a dresser drawer? I don’t really remember. You’re very handsome, but why aren’t you smiling in your picture? Too macho? ;)”

“Adult braces ;)” Clint replied, wincing. If Bucky ever found out he’d said that, he was dead. Really dead but… You did like a man with a sense of humor.


	4. Chapter 4

“Barton!” Tony barked, irritated, “I hope whoever you’re sexting has a plan for this shit.”

Clint felt his cheeks heat and he put his phone down, “I’m not sexting.”

“You were texting and smiling at your crotch,” Tony countered.

“Yeah but-”

“Guys!” Steve cut in, “Barton, put the phone away, Tony… let Barton live his life.”

“But he’s sexting! He’s saying swears!”

“And he’s not doing it where the press can hear him,” Steve sighed, “And you don’t really even know that he IS sexting.”

“I’m not,” Barton added, his cheeks turning redder. 

Tony rolled his eyes but Turned away and Clintshot Steve a grateful look and dutifully put his phone back on the table.

While it was true, he wasn’t saying anything untoward and there had been no mention of what you were wearing… He really didn’t feel like explaining who he was talking to. Or why. Or that he was using Bucky’s face to do it. Bucky was the least recognizable Avenger. And he knew… Or at least hoped that you hadn’t really paid attention to anything past the major current events. Bucky liked to stay out of the spotlight. And he was an assassin. Press Junkets weren’t really his thing. 

It felt slimy, using someone else’s face and name but. Not slimy enough that his chest didn’t feel warm whenever you messaged him back. You were… different. More cautious. But. The warmth that drew him to you to start with was still there. He could practically see you light up when you talked about your shop. And hear your interest when you talked to him about “himself”.

The rest of the briefing, a weekly event, passed in a blur. He knew that he should pay attention but. Nothing was happening right now and all he wanted to do was talk to you. To know that you were going to keep talking back. 

Still, Natasha caught him off guard when she sidled up to him in the hall, “So,” she asked teasing, “Were you sexting?”

“No,” Clint groaned, hastily shoving his phone into his pocket. 

“So why were you smiling at your crotch?”

“I uh-” he paused for a second, considering how much he should say. Or could say without Natasha catching on to him. “I uh- joined a dating site.”

“A dating site?” The spy blinked at him, clearly struggling to process that piece of information. “Why?”

“I thought it was time to get back out there,” Clint said uncomfortably, “After 10 years, y/N isn’t coming back.”

“Okay but-” Natasha blinked again. “You’re not completely unfortunate… why not just go out?”

“Thanks,” he snorted, “But I really don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet.”

“Fair enough,” Nat said nodding, “The dating scene is trash now, thanks to tinder.”

“You liked tinder,” Clint said going to pour himself a cup of coffee. 

“Well yeah,” she snorts, “It’s fine if you’re a woman. It’s a virtual firing squad of dicks every time you log in… Guys get sorted out of the algorithm because there are so fucking many of them.”

“That’s gross,” Clint said taking a sip from his mug. And suddenly, for the first time, he considered that you might be getting a lot of male attention. Like. A lot of it. And that made him feel a little sick. He was sure that the other men in your inbox weren’t appreciating you properly. The thought of them doing some of the things he’d heard of men doing on dating sites made him cringe.

“Yeah, well,” Natasha said helping herself to her own coffee, “if you have 80 guys and only 20 women… 60 of those guys are going to strike out.”

Clint grunted softly, “It’s still gross. Tinder is gross.”

“Oh totally,” Natasha said, “But. It’s nice to get the attention when you’re having a bad day.”

Clint rolled his eyes and shook his head. Natasha was impossible but. She seemed to be successfully distracted from Clint’s dating profile. And that was a good thing. If Natasha caught him, she’d also kill him. Or at least help Bucky kill him. And worse, she’d probably make him come clean. And… make no mistake, he meant to tell you. At some point. Just. Just not right now. Not until he could get you to talk about your past. About what had made you leave… He wanted to know if you still cared about him first. 

“So,” Natasha said, “Who’s the girl?”

“There are a couple of them,” he said shrugging, “I didn’t really set a distance limit.” Little pieces of the truth. Just enough to make it believable. And rememberable. Natasha was good at catching people in their bullshit. And one of the ways she did it was by catching them in changing stories. Clint knew first hand how much it sucked when she caught you. 

“Anything promising?”

Clint shrugged again, “One of them is really funny.” Again, another truth. You were hilarious. 

“And that explains the smiling at your crotch,” she said smirking. 

He felt his cheeks color and he nodded. He couldn’t deny that he had done it. Everyone had seen him do it. But people pointing it out made him feel like a stupid kid. And he didn’t appreciate the reminder that he was acting like one. 

The door to the meeting room down the hallway shut and Clint and Natasha turned to see Steve walking towards them, “Ooo,” Natasha said softly, “You’re in trouble, now.”

“Great,” Clint groaned. 

“You weren’t… sexting right?” Steve asked, uncomfortable.

“No!” Clint yelped, “For the last time.”

“He joined a dating site,” Natasha added, “And evidently one of his harem is funny.”

“I don’t-” Clint started. 

“He totally does,” Natasha said grinning. 

“You know what,” Steve said turning away, clearly out of his depth, “Just put your phone away next time. Stark’s putting out a memo… again.”

And Clint can’t help but chuckle. It is absurdly satisfying to get Steve flustered. 

\----------

Natasha sat cross-legged on the bed and scrolled through profiles. She knew Clint. And she knew there were tons of dating sites he could use but. 

She also knew that he was probably using a free one. And one that you didn’t have to pay to use a ton of features. But. There wasn’t one. Not one profile that was actually Clint. Sure. Lots of desperate people had borrowed his picture but. It wasn’t him.

Actually. There were a lot of impostorous Avengers… Something that tickled Nat. And so she quietly started to put together a file. One for each of them. And put the links to the profiles. Maybe they could use it to play a drinking game one night.


	5. Chapter 5

“What the fuck?”

The surprised exclamation made Clint shrink in his chair just slightly. Trying to take up less space. Bucky was sitting with Nat in a corner of the room and the two of them had their heads bent over Natasha’s deceptively old looking laptop. She’d been showing people the dating site profiles she’d found one on one after Steve said she couldn’t make it into a game. 

Bucky, of course, had less of them. But the ones who had done it had pinned everything from the Kennedy Assassination to weapons of mass destruction on him. It had made for an interesting rabbit hole. But… They hadn’t found Clint’s yet… Yet.

“Why the fuck do people keep saying I was born anywhere but Brooklyn?” Bucky, it seemed was less concerned about people borrowing his identity and more concerned with the people getting details wrong. “Iowa? What the fuck good ever came out of Iowa?”

“Captain Kirk?” Tony supplied, walking through to get himself coffee. 

“And the musical State Fair,” Steve added. 

“I don’t know what either of those things mean,” Bucky said frowning, looking between the two of them. 

But Clint couldn’t ignore the fact that Natasha was looking at him. Scowling at him.

And Clint… Well. He ran out of the room like a stupid kid. His tail between his legs. He knew it was a bad idea. The worst idea. But. He couldn’t stop himself. His flight or fight instinct kicked in and so he flew. Taking Natasha on toe to toe was a worse idea. And he knew it was going to come back to bite him either way. But. 

At least running gave him some time to think. 

Or at least it was supposed to. Until Natasha dropped out of a goddamn ceiling vent like a wrathful orphan Annie. Clint stopped startled and immediately tried to turn away. To run the other way. But a hand clamped down on his shoulder. Pretty manicured fingers sank into his t shirt and spun him around. 

“What the fuck, Clint?” she hissed.

“I just wanted to know!” Clint protested, “I figured if I contacted her straight out she’d shut me down. Or-”

“Or what?” Natasha whispered. 

“She’d… She’d… yell at me. I don’t know,” Clint groaned. “Look. We didn’t really part on good terms okay? I was being a shit head. I was drunk all the time. Doing illegal shit… She asked me to choose and I… I didn’t choose her.”

Clint watched Natasha soften slightly but, he wasn’t stupid enough to think that she was disarmed by his honesty. 

“Clint-” she started. 

“No just listen,” he said, “I knew it was wrong from the second I clicked the register button, okay? I just… As soon as we started talking it was like nothing ever changed. I was 17 again and I was trying to get her to go on the Ferris wheel with me. We were about to go to the drive in and share a cherry coke and eat our weight in popcorn and buncha crunch… I didn’t realize how much- how much I missed her. And how much I’d give to get her back.”

“But- Adult braces?” Natasha asked.

“I- I panicked,” Clint said softly. 

Natasha took a step forward and Clint flinched. But, Natasha didn’t smack him. She carded her fingers through his hair and smiled a little. “You have to come clean, Clint,” she murmured. 

“I know,” he sighed, “And- and I mean to I- just… I don’t know if I can lose her again.” 

“You might not,” Natasha said, “Maybe she wanted to talk to you. She just didn’t know how to reach you.”

“Not unless she’s a really different girl from the one I knew,” Clint sighed. “She put up with a lot of shit. A lot. But the one thing she’d never deal with was lies. Ever. And- and so I never did. Not even if it was going to break her heart.”

Natasha started to stay something but she didn’t get the chance. 

“That’s really fucking nice and all,” Bucky drawled, “But why me?”

Clint tensed, waiting for a blow to land but. It didn’t. Bucky leaned against the railing and folded his arms, watching Clint like a judgemental tabby on a window sil. “You- you do less press. And I was banking on her not remembering much US history.” 

Bucky opened his mouth and Clint held up a hand, “She’s not stupid- She just… never really had much use for the past you know? Most kids who join the circus or something don’t.”

The assassin seemed to absorb that for a second and nodded, “So,” he said, “you tryna get her back or?”  
“I don’t know,” Clint said honestly, backing up to the wall and sinking down it. Standing- standing was too hard. His body felt too heavy for gravity. It made him feel woozy. And maybe nauseous. He wasn’t sure if it was that or the not eating. Or the coffee. Maybe it was all three. “It started as- as keeping tabs on her. Making sure that HYDRA wasn’t- hadn’t found her.”

Clint pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, lacing his fingers together as he stared at the wall. So he missed the look that Bucky and Natasha traded over his head. 

“I love her,” Clint said miserably, “I never stopped. I was just too stupid to realize what I had. And I want- I guess I want her to be happy. With or with out me but-”

“You’d rather be happy with her,” Bucky finished. 

“Yeah,” the archer sighed, rubbing his face, hard. Trying to chafe away some of the numbness.

“But- man,” Bucky groaned, “Braces? You couldn’t have gone with anything less stupid?”

“I panicked,” Clint yelped, “I swear.” 

“No game,” Bucky said shaking his head, “how did you ever land a dame that hot? She’s a total smoke show.”

“I had a truck,” Clint said smiling a little, “And she liked my dimples.”

“And sometimes he’s funny,” Natasha added. 

“Fucking when?” Bucky asked incredulously.


	6. Chapter 6

When your phone chimed you look at your phone with a frown. It was irritating being interrupted while you worked. And you’d be lying if you said that some of your irritation wasn’t because James had been radio silent without any warning. 

You hated that. If you wanted to deal with that sort of thing, you would have stayed with Clint. Clint… well. He tried. But. When he went on the road with the show it wasn’t uncommon for him to spend a lot of time giving you radio silence. You looked at the dresser, currently half varnished and sighed. “Nope. He can wait, Rock,” you say out loud.

The old dog doesn’t stop gnawing his hunk of the antler you’d given him so you could work without having him knocking over the paint tray or putting his paws in the varnish trying to lay his head in your lap or get a pet or just investigate. He hardly ever does stop gnawing once he has his thing to tear apart. But still. It’s nice to have more to talk to than your current project. Or the empty air. It makes you feel less like a whackadoodle. 

When your phone chimed again you bite your lip. “It could be a client though,” you protest. “I can look and not answer.”

You glance at the phone and exhale slowly. “No,” you sigh. “You’re right. If it was a client they would call. Most of the Bougie Becky’s that buy my shit don’t text… Unless they’re trying to shill diet pills.”

You turn back to the dresser, musing about drawer pulls and mosaics and other little bits of frill you might be able to add. Anything to try and keep yourself away from your phone. You knew it was childish, wanting to leave James on the same radio silence he’d given you. But. You really did ascribe to the doctrine that you taught people how to treat you. 

Clint had taught you that. 

He’d taught you a lot of things. And some of them weren’t so bad. Like blowing bubble gum bubbles and how to slow dance. Those things made you feel… warm when you thought about them. It was sweet. But. That wasn’t enough to make you stay. To drown out all the nights that got late. The vitriol that got hurled your way. 

You shook your head and tried to redirect your thoughts. Clint had been on your mind a lot. More than you had really thought about him in years. You’d go days now, sometimes weeks without him in the fore front of your mind. And you weren’t sure. But you thought it was probably because of James. 

He was warm. And familiar. And some things about him reminded you about the best parts of who Clint had been. 

Still. He was different. Or at least. Different enough from Clint that you could feel comfortable. The maturity in the way he worded things and the way he was just concerned about you. It felt nice. It was just nice to feel cared about again. Like someone… saw you. You’d forgotten, or thought you had forgotten about how it felt to have someone care about you that way. And by the time your phone chimed a third time, you couldn’t convince yourself to leave it on the desk. 

You set aside your brush and walked across the room to look at your phone. And your heart skipped a beat. It had been James. 

“Hey! Sorry. Work has been crazy. I haven’t really had a chance to talk to you properly. And I didn’t want to only give you half my attention.” 

The words lit up the screen and you felt something in your chest unclench. It was good to know that he hadn’t just… left. Sure. You got a fair amount of attention. It was a dating site. But none of that felt the same way this did. 

“I’m glad your work finally loosened the noose a little,” you start, “But can you do something for me?”

You hit send and take a deep breath. It was time to set a boundary. To make sure James understood what you needed. 

“What’s that, beautiful?” 

“Here goes nothing, Rock-rock,” you tell the dog, worrying your bottom lip in your teeth. 

To James, you typed, “Can you tell me before you go radio silent?” you ask, “It’d be nice to know you were okay.”

___________

Clint felt his breath catch. It was the first thing you had ever asked him to do. You never even demanded a new picture or to talk on the phone. 

“Of course,” he answered. Trying not to think about Bucky and Nat staring at him in the corner, waiting for him to get it over with and tell you the truth. “I’m sorry,” he typed, “I meant to talk to you and got distracted.”

“Well?” Bucky demanded. 

“I’m sorry,” Clint sighed, “I can’t- I can’t do this to her this way I need-” He couldn’t finish that sentence and exhaled slowly. 

“You need to see her in person,” Nat said softly, understanding. 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “She deserves at least that much. Especially after the way I left it.”  
“I thought she left you,” Bucky said, frowning. 

“She did,” Clint said, “But I didn’t leave her much choice… And I never fought for her either. I never followed her. Even though I knew where she was, at least to start with.”

“So-” Nat started. 

“How’d the divorce go through?” Clint said smiling a little. 

“Yeah.”

“She hired a private detective to track me down… Then had someone bring me papers. I was so pissed off and hurt that she even leeft to start with that I just signed. I didn’t realize until later that that was my last chance.”

Bucky shook his head and sighed, “The fuck did she thing was going to happen marryin’ a circus clown?”

“She was an acrobat,” Clint said smiling a little, “And she did tightrope. Without a net… The circus marketed us as a dynamic duo kinda thing for a while. And sold tickets to the wedding.”

“That’s insane,” Bucky said, incredulous. 

“We were 18,” Clint said fairly. “It was the only way we could really afford to get married.”

“Then why-” Bucky started but then snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. “Fucking kids, man. Stupid.”


	7. Chapter 7

Clint sat behind the wheel of his car and gnawed on his lip anxiously. “I’m not sure I can do this, Tasha,” he said softly. 

The spy made a soft sympathetic noise and rubbed the back of his neck, “Maybe we need to catch her at work… Not at her house?” she suggested.

In the back seat, Bucky made a soft irritated sound but, when Natasha shot him an angry look, he didn’t say anything. In a way, he could understand why Clint was torn up. But it didn’t make him not angry. Clint had been struggling for weeks to man up and tell his ex-wife what he’d done. Ostensibly to keep from hurting her. 

Clint nodded slowly. “I just-”

“I know,” Natasha said, “But you know that she deserves the truth, Clint.”

The archer hung his head and took a deep breath. He knew that you did. And that was his own fault. But he didn’t want to do this. He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to keep talking to you. To keep feeling the way he felt when he knew that you were happy. 

Neither Bucky or Natasha said anything as Clint pulled down the street. And Clint took in the sights. The town looked exactly like you described. It was idyllic and sleepy. Brick and white picket fences. Tree-lined streets. Big enough to have a college but not big enough that there was a Walmart. The kind of town you always wanted to live in. To raise a kid or two in. The kind of place that Clint wouldn’t have been caught dead in when he was 20. 

The kind of place that sounded like heaven now. 

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Nat asked, “Wait for the shop to open?”

“I don’t think I can eat,” Clint said.

“Well I’m fucking starving,” Bucky said, “Try the diner up there.”

Clint sighed, but pulled the car over to park off the street. Bucky and Nat were there as a favor to him. Nat for moral support and Bucky to maybe- well. To be perfectly honest he wasn’t sure why Bucky was there. Maybe to show you that Bucky was real and Clint really hadn’t conjured someone up to trick you. And in that vein, he needed to make sure that he wasn’t being a dick. They hadn’t put him in this mess. 

So. He got out of the car and followed them. And it looked like every 50’s diner that he’d ever seen in a movie. Complete with a jukebox and a lighted dessert case. 

A uniformed waitress took their order, all bubbly and beaming. Natasha’s burger, Bucky’s pancakes, and Clint’s black coffee. And Clint watched the foot traffic on the sidewalk. He knew that your shop was somewhere on this street. It was a shop made from a converted newspaper office. Second Chance Treasures. An eclectic little boutique shop that held antiques of all kinds and refurbished furniture. The kind of store you’d always wanted. 

And he was sure that inside, it was perfect. Down to the last little detail. You’d always been good with tiny details. And making plans. Saving money. Clint wasn’t sure how. Your home life had been just as horrible as his. But at some point, evidently, you’d made up your mind that the family curse was going to end with you. And Clint wished that he had come to that way of thinking himself, just a little faster. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” Nat said softly, pushing his cup of coffee closer to him. 

Clint smiled a little sadly, “Just wondering how things could have gone, I guess.”

Bucky restrained an eye roll with effort. He didn’t understand any of this. Or rather, sometimes he understood it, kind of, and sometimes he was at his wits end. Today, he was at his wit’s end. He wanted Clint to grow up. Just go find this girl, tell her he loved her and move on. The wistful looks and whining were working his last nerve. Especially since, for Bucky, there was no second chance. Any of the women he had loved before were either dead or wishing for death at this point. And you were here. Alive and well. On the dating scene even, not married with three kids. 

The bells above the door chimed and Bucky watched Clint’s head snap up, “Shit,” he muttered, going pale. 

And Bucky half turned to see what he was looking at. A woman with long hair half piled on her head. Paint spattered over alls. And a wide, friendly smile. Bucky turned back around quickly. And absurdly, he could almost understand. He wanted you to talk to him. He wanted to talk to you. To see that big smile up close. 

He tried not to turn back around. And Natasha was frantically trying to get Clint to stop staring. To not draw attention to the table by making an idiot out of himself. 

But. 

It was all too little too late. Even over the din in the diner, Bucky could hear your soft little gasp of “Clint?”

And the flurry of movement as you pay for your coffee and run out the door, dodging a handful of old farmers on the way. 

Bucky applied himself to his pancakes, pretending that he wasn’t moved. Pretending that he hadn’t even seen. Anything to keep from hearing the devastation and the confusion in your voice. 

“Clint,” Nat muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Tasha,” Clint muttered, lips bloodless, “What do I even say?”

“I’m sorry might be a good way to start,” she answered. 

But both Bucky and Clint had a sinking feeling that “Sorry” was just not going to cut it.

__________

Clint sat behind the wheel of the car and stared at your shop front. The closed sign mocking him from across the street. “C’mon, Y/N,” he muttered, pleading with you like you could head him, “Throw me a bone here.”

But the sign didn’t move. Even as they could see you moving around behind the glass. 

“Maybe Nat can go talk to her first,” Bucky piped up from the back seat. “Explain how stupid you are.”

“She knows-”

“She knew almost 10 years ago,” Nat said looking at Clint. “It’s not the worst idea.”

And Clint nodded after a moment. It was true that you might respond better to another woman. Someone you could commiserate with. Someone else who knew how dumb Clint could be. The woman that had taken over trying to keep him alive. 

____________

You looked up to see the redhead from the Diner standing in the door about to knock and sighed. “Just a second,” you call, walking around the jewelry counter where you had been frantically fixing a display of antique broaches. 

When you unlock the door and open it, leaving your closed sign flipped, she opens her mouth, but you hold up your hand for silence. “I don’t want to see Clint,” you tell her. 

“He needs to see you,” she said quietly, reaching down to stroke Rocky’s ears when he came to investigate. 

“Why?” you challenge. “It’s been 8 years. What the fuck could he have to say now?”

Natasha exhaled slowly, “He should probably tell you himself.”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose, “I can’t. I just-” you exhale slowly and look up at the ceiling for a second, looking for control. Admiring the details on the antique light fixtures you’d restored. “It was hard enough to move on. To even want to move on.”

Natasha felt a twinge of sympathy and reached out to squeeze your hand. Before, she’d felt for Clint. His pain. But now? Watching you, a real, live woman. Watching you try and tamp down the pain. She wanted to punch Clint in the nose. 

“That’s what he needs to talk to you about,” Natasha said softly.


	8. Chapter 8

Clint and Bucky walk into the shop. And Clint can’t breathe. It really is everything you could have ever wanted. Everything you ever gushed about. It’s beautiful and airy. In a prewar building… It’s perfect. 

Right down to the dog gnawing on a bone in a basket. 

Bucky tries to stay in the shadows. You’re visibly trembling and Bucky isn’t sure if it’s anger or fear. But he doesn’t want to become the target. Or make this any worse.

“What did you do, Clint?” you ask, your voice very quiet. You’re behind the glass counter, arms folded across your chest. And Clint… it makes him angry. You’re looking at him like you used to look at him when he came home late. But he swallows hard. Forcing himself to slow down. 

“You look good,” he tries.

“What. Did. You. Do.” 

Your eyes flash and Clint steps up to the counter “Y/N I- look. I didn’t mean-”

Bucky cringes. Clint’s hardly said anything but Bucky can read your face like a book. Clint is digging himself a hole. A deeper hole than he’s already in. So he steps forward, coughing slightly to attract your attention. 

And you glance at him and then freeze for a moment, looking between him and Clint for a second, pieces falling into place. And Before either of them can get a word out, you bring your palms down on the glass countertop hard enough that it spiderwebs out under your hands, making the three seasoned heroes jump. Startled.

“Y/N- I just.”

“No!” you snap, your voice not loud but sharp. Cracking just a little. “Get out!”

“Y/N,” he tried again, reaching for one of your bleeding hands.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me.”

“I just wanted-”

“I don’t care what you wanted,” your voice rising an octave. “Our whole marriage was what you wanted! I gave up everything. For you. Time and time again. AND THEN THE SECOND I THINK I CAN HANDLE BEING WITH SOMEONE YOU HAVE TO MAKE SURE I CAN’T!”

Clint backs up, flinching like you’d raised more than your voice. And now he’s grateful for the counter that’s in the way. You never got this angry at him. You never yelled. Or screamed. Or really even cried when you were with him. And the force of your anger makes him feel sick. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, keeping his distance this time. Aware that your dog. Your fat old dog was stalking closer to him, barring his teeth.

“No, you’re not,” you tell him. “You’re sorry you got caught.” You turned your attention from Clint to Bucky and rounded on him, “And you,”

Bucky stayed quiet, keeping his hands where you could see them. You radiated hurt. Wounds that had been ripped back open. And even if he didn’t want to be screamed at, he couldn’t blame you. 

“Did you know?”

Bucky shook his head, “Not until after… I- We- wanted Clint to come clean. Tell you himself.”

You nod slowly and Bucky winces as you look back to where Natasha had edged closer to Clint. “Alright. Well. You told me. Now get out.”

“Y/N-”

“Out!” you bark, “Get the fuck out!”

And this time, they leave. Creeping out of the shop feeling like monsters. And trying not to turn around as you collapse on the floor into whimpering sobs. The weight of it all bearing you slowly, unavoidably towards the ground. 

__________

“You okay?” Nat asked softly. 

“I just want to go home,” Clint said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You love her,” Nat said.

“But not enough.”

Bucky and Nat watched as Clint went back to the waiting car. “I want you to stay here,” Nat told him, not turning. 

“Why?”

“Just in case,” Nat said softly. “I don’t think Clint would ever forgive himself if she was gonna jump off a bridge or something.”

Bucky looked back towards the shop, where he could still hear you crying. Sobbing like your heart was being ripped out of your chest. And he nodded. He knew that he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel complicit. Even if he hadn’t done anything. And didn’t even know it was happening. “What are you going to do with Barton?” he asked. 

“Take him home. Get him Drunk. Try and keep him away from Stark,” Natasha answered. 

He nodded. “You’re gonna send me a ride, right?”

Natasha nodded, “I’m gonna have an agent bring you your bike. And some clothes.”

Bucky nodded again and sighed. He didn’t want to stay. But neither did he want to feel somehow complicit if anything happened to you. You were innocent in all this. The wronged party. The person fucked over. And you were pretty. It was a perfect storm of everything that would have gotten Bucky in a lot of trouble once upon a time. 

“Nat,” he started, taking a deep breath. 

“I know,” she said quietly, looking back towards the shop. “I didn’t think it would be that bad… Some crying maybe but-” She broke off and shook her head, “Something else happened here. Something I don’t even think Clint knows about.”

“I’m not going to-”

“I don’t want you to,” she snorted. “I’m pretty sure she’s going to take whatever it was to her grave… And I think it might be better that way.” She looked back towards where Clint was sitting in the passenger seat, staring blankly out the front window. “For both of them.”

She turned and went to the car, leaving Bucky standing on the sidewalk. And Bucky waved as she drove them away, trying to put some distance between Clint and his most recent heartbreak. 

Bucky watched the car grow smaller and smaller in the distance. Until he couldn’t see or hear it anymore. And then he turned and walked back into the shop. Your sobs had gone from wracking to soft whimpers and snuffles as the initial lash of shock and hurt had started to fade. He stopped, waiting to be acknowledged and watched you. Sitting with your old dog in your lap and hugging him tightly to your chest. If the dog had any issue with it though, Bucky couldn’t tell. He wasn’t wiggling. Or even annoyed-looking. He seemed to be taking it in stride. 

“James I-”

“Bucky,” the brunette said quickly. “My friends call me Bucky.”

“Bucky,” you sigh, “I don’t- I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here.”

“Welp,” he sighed, “Neither do I. But… It was either me of Clint staying behind and we figured if Clint stayed you’d feed him to your dog.”

And your damp little laugh told Bucky that you were probably going to be okay. Eventually.


End file.
